Something To Hide
by princesskeiraplz
Summary: "I didn't do it." For the first time since Raguna'd stumbled into town, Zavier had absolutely no desire to be in his shoes.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I wrote this fic last summer and posted it on the Ushi no Tane forums, and decided to post it here. I decided to rate it a T, but it's a high T and not meant for kids. Among other things, this contains: character death, violence, strong language, and sexual content of the slash (mxm) variety. All the good stuff, really.**

"I didn't do it."

In the dim light of Mayor Godwin's parlor, it was difficult to read Raguna's face. From what Zavier could make out, his best friend was a mess of incriminating dark circles and sweat; the weak winter sun cast menacing shadows in all the wrong places. Kind of like a mug shot. Which was probably not the best look to be sporting, considering the current predicament he was in. Not just in-in too deep. Much too deep for his own good.

For the first time since Raguna'd stumbled into town, Zavier had absolutely no desire to be in his shoes.

Godwin lowered his eyes, refusing to look at the man who, just a month ago, had been proclaimed his first choice for a potential son-in-law. "I'd like to believe you, Raguna," he sighed, stroking his long white beard, "I really would. Only there is just so much evidence against you-"

"She was my girlfriend!" The fire of Raguna's anger, which had nearly been smothered by ashes of despair, flared up again in his desperate attempt to defend himself. "Why-_why_ the hell would I want to kill her?" He paused, his voice much softer than before as he said, "I loved her." Just like that, his temper was gone, as if it had never been, leaving behind nothing but a shell of his former self.

The mayor's face darkened. "I'm sure you're aware that Miss Bianca had a will," he ventured.

"Doesn't everybody?"

"Were you also aware," Godwin pressed on, ignoring Raguna's input, "that she left over half of the family money in her possession to her boyfriend-that's you." Zavier watched as his friend paled to a ghostly white, swallowing nervously as he began to get the picture. "If that's not a sizable motive, then I don't know what is."

Raguna's face reddened. "I _said_ I didn't do it, you-"

"Hey." Zavier lay a warning hand on the farmer's shoulder, hoping he wouldn't get a slap across the face in return. "This isn't helping."

"Yeah," he admitted, the hopelessness returning to his eyes, his face, his slumping shoulders. "You're right."

After a lame attempt at a brownnosing bow to Mayor Godwin, Zavier ushered Raguna out of the house, stopping him from uttering any final profanities. How unusual, he realized. Their roles had been completely switched by one little incident-or maybe not so little at all. Raguna was usually the (mostly) practical one, the strong one, the one with five women gunning for him while Zavier couldn't even tell one girl that he'd loved her since they were ten years old. For some unknown reason, he'd decided to befriend Zavier, the slightly awkward boy with large ambitions and a small frame who's attempts at adventure usually ended in disaster. One day back in the springtime, he'd invited his new companion to go Carmite cave to dabble in exploring-and Raguna was better than he was. He didn't know why. After all, Raguna had amnesia-he didn't have the faintest idea who he was, much less where his skills as an adventurer originated from.

Due to his superior, well, everything, Raguna was the one un-sticking Zavier from whatever mess he'd gotten himself stuck in. This could be rather embarrassing, especially the time when, in his post being-granted-a-past excitement, Zavier'd tried to wade across the river to Misty Bloom Cave, only to discover there was a reason the thing was blocked off in three out of four seasons. Let's just say the river turned out to be not so wadeable after all, and Zavier couldn't swim. Raguna had to fish him out and perform mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

No wonder the only girl that would look at him twice was his little sister.

Finally, finally, the day had come that Raguna needed _his_ help. Zavier just wished it had been under different circumstances.

"Damn him!" exclaimed Raguna, mere moments after they'd exited Godwin's manor. "He just won't listen to reason."

They began walking down the cobblestone roads of northern Kardia, completely oblivious to both the frigid air and the disapproving glares of the townspeople from behind dusty windowpanes, which were even more so. Zavier didn't know where they were headed; like so many other times, he was letting Raguna lead. Which might not've been the best idea.

Zavier rolled his eyes. "Let's see here...you were found, alone in your rich girlfriend's house, standing over her freshly-stabbed body. Holding the murder weapon. With her blood all over your hands. Sounds pretty reasonable to me."

Raguna stopped suddenly, making Zavier nearly bump into him. He spun around so they were face-to-face-well, as close as they could get with his two inches of greater height. His face was twisted into an expression Zavier'd never seen before and, frankly, hoped he'd never see again, at least not directed at him. "Just who the fuck do you think you are?" he asked.

"Wha-?" Zavier wasn't surprised so much by the question as by his voice, which was much to cold to be talking to one's best friend. Even if one's best friend acted like a pest most of the time.

"You're supposed to be on my side, Zavier."

"I _am_ on your side, it's just that I'm trying to get you to see things through their-hey, wait up!" Raguna had already begun to storm away, and Zavier had to jog to keep up with his long strides. By the time he'd caught up with his friend, he was out of breath, which didn't say much for his physique. "I'm sorry," he panted, "I believe you."

"I know," sighed Raguna.

Now that they'd walked a bit further, it was clear that they were headed for the park. It was an odd choice of destinations to say the least, considering the fact that it was probably coated in layers of snow and ice. Nobody was stupid enough to go for a stroll in sub-zero temperatures-probably why Raguna'd wanted to go there to begin with. He sat down on one of the stone benches, not even bothering to brush off the layer of snow. It would've been a waste, anyway, since more was beginning to fall, the first brave flakes breaking away from the serenity of the clouds and flinging themselves into the unknown, trendsetters for the others.

Gingerly, Zavier sat down on the opposite end of the bench, carefully removing all traces of snow before he did so. He liked his clothes dry, thank you. Since Bianca had been found dead two days ago, behind around Raguna was like being around a pregnant woman. He was tired, irritable, and totally unpredictable. (Just as long as he didn't start craving pickles and ice cream.) Every question, every word, was like answering a girl when she asked if she looked fat in this. One wrong move and you could be smacked upside the head. Luckily, by the way he was brooding in silence, his head in his hands, it appeared that Raguna was in one of his more placid moods.

It had been so much easier in the good old days-Raguna succeeding, Zavier failing miserably, and, most importantly being single. Both of them. Not that Zavier was bothered by Raguna spending time with various women instead of him, or so he told himself, but it, they, made things more complicated. If Raguna had never gone out with (or, more accurately, slept with) Bianca, he never would've been around when she'd been brutally murdered. At that very moment, Zavier marveled, the two of them could be out exploring somewhere, digging for treasure in the finally-accessible Misty Bloom Cave, talking about the Sechs Empire advancing onto their territory or the reason the monsters were so unsettled lately or just how old Mei _really_ was-all things of earth-shattering importance, no doubt. Just the two of them.

Not that Zavier wanted it that way. Or needed it that way. He had other friends, right? Besides, there was always Mist. Shaking his head, he pushed the baffling thoughts out of his mind. The way he felt about Mist, perfect, beautiful Mist, was completely different from the way he felt about his best friend. After all, this was _Raguna_-and sometimes, he could be horrendously perfect.

"Bianca and I used to come here." Raguna's voice was so soft, so wistful, that at first Zavier wondered if he'd been meant to hear it or not. "She always talked about how shabby it was-the trees were all varying heights-but she loved it. I could tell." He paused, smiling up at the snow, which was beginning to fall in thicker and thicker clumps, a distant look in his eyes. "We'd come here every Sunday and just sit. We never said anything-we didn't need to. She knew I loved her." Raguna's voice cracked during his final sentence, making Zavier glance over in concern. Much to his dismay, Raguna's eyes were beginning to take on a suspiciously watery look and, much as he visibly tried to stop it, a lone tear escaped, slowly rolling down his cheek.

_Great_, thought Zavier as he sat there, watching the toughest guy he knew try not to sob. _What am I supposed to do now?_ He'd never been good with melodramatics; whenever Tori came home from her job, cried, and locked herself in her room, his mother had been the one to comfort her. It wasn't that Zavier didn't try (he made her a sandwich once-it didn't help), he just wasn't good at emotional things. Unless it was anger. That he was very good at.

"Hey," he said, trying to sound gentle, "I'm sorry." Nothing. Raguna refused to look at him, his face turned towards the icy ground, completely still except for his continuous crying. This wasn't right. A sad, desperate man, hunkered down in the town square, sobbing, was not Raguna. And standing by doing nothing-well, that wasn't Zavier. Not at all. "Look, I have an idea. How about I," Zavier paused, hoping it didn't sound like he was making things up as he went along, "we, find out who really killed Bianca."

Raguna looked up, his face visibly coming to life. "You mean you have a plan?"

Zavier swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He reached up to rearrange his hat, only to remember that Raguna knew that's what he always did when he was lying. Raguna knew everything, it seemed. "Sort of." _Yeah, if 'sort of' is code for 'not at all'._

Amazingly, Raguna smiled. "Thanks, Zav. I knew you'd think of something."

He tried not to wince at the nickname, hoping it was not a permanent addition. "Yeah, well," he said sheepishly, "what are friends for?"

As Raguna started up at the ominous gray sky, Zavier continued to sit in silence, his mind as numb as his toes. What, he wondered, would Raguna do when he realized that he really was as bad at life as he was at swimming? Recalling the incident at Misty Bloom Cave for the second time that day, Zavier felt his face go hot despite the plunging temperatures. He could only hope that Raguna didn't bring _that_ up again.

If only they didn't have bigger things to worry about.


	2. Chapter 2

_Knock, knock_

As soon as his fist made contact with the gleaming oak doors of Jasper's mansion, Zavier regretted his mission. Not that he'd had any choice but to go-he'd promised Raguna, after all. A lesser man would've forgotten one little detail of their tear-filled conversation in the snow. Not Raguna. For somebody with amnesia, he sure had a perfect memory when it came to things Zavier wanted him to forget. In fact, Raguna was perfect in many ways. He saved young children from danger, talked to his turnip sprouts, and didn't gag when Zavier's mother called him cute. (Her son lacked that amount of self-control, however, and spent the duration of that evening ill on the sofa.)

"Well? Are you going to come in or not?"

Zavier was startled out of his thoughts by the heavily-accented voice of Tabatha, Bianca and Jasper's maid. Well, he guessed she was just Jasper's. With her tan skin, full figure, and striking head of blue hair, he looked different from most of the girls in the area. Raguna said this was because she was an elf-Zavier wouldn't know. _He_ wasn't the one that'd seen her without her little maid-hat on-much less anything else.

"Ah...yeah," he said, his cheeks burning under Tabatha's scrutinizing gaze. "I am." Zavier took a step forward, but the maid didn't budge.

"And what, should I tell Mr. Jasper, is your business here?"

"Business? Oh, I'm not selling anything..."

Tabatha sighed. "No, I mean why do you wish to see him?" If her elven upbringing had not taught her to be as respectful as possible towards others, she probably would've added 'you blockhead' to the end of that sentence.

Zavier shifted uncomfortably. "It's important. Just-please." He paused, trying to use his 'cuteness' (as his mother so often put it) to his advantage. How could you say no to an innocent kid? "Trust me."

"Alright." As Tabatha disappeared inside the house once more, Zavier paused to grimace. Had he really stooped so low as to make puppy dog eyes at somebody?

_Raguna'd better be damn thankful for this_, he thought, as he followed Tabatha down the hall to the study.

Jasper was large man in many ways: in presence, influence, and girth. Not a good combination, especially when you intend to inquire about his deceased daughter.

"Well?" said Jasper, his voice as loud and obnoxious as his outfit. "Don't just stand there gawking. What do you want?"

"It's...well, it's sort of private," said Zavier, glancing Tabatha's way.

The elf's eyes widened. "If you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I think I need to clean up the breakfast dishes." With a polite curtsy, she was gone, but Zavier was willing to bet she was eavesdropping through the door. Women were sneaky that way.

Jasper crossed his arms (an amazing feat, if you thought about it) as if to say 'I'm waiting'. Zavier cleared his throat. Should he have taken off his hat? That was probably the polite thing to do. But he _never_ took it off, except when he slept, and then nobody saw him anyway. Hat or no hat, he decided to press on. "It's...it's about your daughter, sir."

Zavier watched in horror as Jasper's doughy face turned pink, then red, then maroon, and finally an alarming shade of purple. He got ready to duck in case any furniture was thrown. "...Bianca? Why?" He sounded so sad, so shattered at the mention of her name that Zavier would've felt bad for the man if he hadn't looked like he was contemplating sitting on him and having pancakes for lunch.

"We're looking for information about how she died." He prayed Jasper would not inquire into who 'we' was. "For...you know, legal things."

"I don't see why you need more information," hissed Jasper, keeping his voice low for once. "We know everything there is to know. That bastard killed her, and I'm going to make [i]sure[/i] he pays."

"Raguna didn't kill her." The words were out, escaped from Zavier's lips with a life of their own, before he could stop them. Keeping him out of Greed cave, forcing air back into his lungs, stopping him from becoming Jasper's pre-brunch snack-all those things were supposed to be Raguna's job.

Jasper didn't explode or snap anything in half-Zavier included. He remained calm, his dark eyes glittering menacingly. Which was ten times as frightening. Zavier shrank back, Toros cave monsters suddenly seeming as friendly as an old college chum. "I don't know what he's been telling you, kid, but you tell him that it's going to take a lot more than that to change my mind. I can't have my little girl back, but the man who took her away is the next best thing."

Zavier decided that Jasper's speech was meant to convey "get out before I turn you into a strudel", or at least something pretty close, so he did just that. In his haste to remain un-flattened, he opened the study door so sharply that he disturbed Tabatha, who just _happened_ to be dusting the baseboards. She tried to shoot him a sympathetic glance. Zavier scowled in return.

Despite how cold it was, as soon as he left Jasper's abode, Zavier felt as though he could breathe easier. He hadn't convinced anybody that his friend was innocent, and it was quite obvious there were no suspects there. Suspects were what he was aiming for, after all. Surely, though, Jasper was the toughest case._ Someone_ had to be on Raguna's side. _Someone_ had to know the truth.

...Right?

"Come on, man, you have to eat _something_."

"I'm not hungry."

"Tori's soup's not that bad!" Zavier paused, peering warily into the rather clumsy pot he was carrying. "Okay, so there's these funny chunks, but you can sort of fish them out..."

"I told you. I'm not hungry."

Zavier sighed. This conversation was clearly going nowhere, except in circles. He just didn't feel like dealing with the moody Raguna. After a morning of nothing but suspicious stares and guarded answers, he was convinced that everybody in Kardia had a sizable motive-the ones he'd talked to, at least. Bianca had not been exactly well-liked; she'd had a special knack for walking into a room of six people and offending five of them in a single sentence. If he hadn't had a headache that felt like an ax was being driven through his skull, Zavier might've realized that taking a slightly less Perry Mason-ish approach to his interrogations might've helped. He could've at least dropped the finger-pointing.

"You can't stay upset forever," said Zavier, using a ladle to spoon a hearty helping of gooey soup into a bowl. He prepared a second bowl, just in case.

"Like hell I can't." Raguna peered down at the sticky mixture in front of him, sniffing suspiciously. "What _is_ this, anyway?"

"Chicken, I think." Zavier took a tentative sip, trying to ignore the scalding temperature. "Yeah. It's not that bad."

Tentatively, Raguna ate a small spoonful, carefully blowing on it to cool it down first-no burnt tongues for him. "On the bright side, it tastes much better than it looks." He grimaced but, thankfully, kept on eating.

"Tori said it's enriched with antioxidants to help you feel better," Zavier continued, blowing on his bowl so hard that little droplets of soup splattered all over Raguna's nice white tablecloth. "I told her you weren't sick like that, but she wouldn't listen. It's good to eat it, anyway. We wouldn't want you to get as skinny as me."

Raguna had a strange look on his face, probably mourning the loss of his tablecloth or wondering why his friend was babbling so much. "Nobody's as skinny as you," he pointed out.

Zavier scowled, choking down more of Tori's concoction. At least his sister believed Raguna; she'd had a hopeless crush on him for ages. Hopeless because he was not the type to gallop in on a white horse, sweep a girl in his arms, and carry her off to happily-ever-after. Raguna was more of a sweep-you-off-to-happily-for-a-week-or-two. Or sometimes for-a-night-or-two.

To put it as simply as possibly, his best friend was a total player. Zavier tried to overlook his one breach of character, but it bothered him much more than he liked to admit. He couldn't care less about most of the girls Raguna did, anyway, which only made his annoyance more baffling.

"So, how's the plan going?" After a long night of brilliant brainstorming and careful planning (alright, so he'd asked Tori for help), Zavier'd finally realized how simple it was: find the _real_ murderer. Only it wasn't. Simple, that is.

"Not so good," he admitted.

Raguna set down his soup, brow furrowed in concern. "How bad is not so good?"

"Pretty bad." This was the first time Zavier'd seen Raguna without all his farming getup-tool belt, partial armor, the works-, and it made him look different. Smaller, maybe. He wondered if the lose blue shirt and gray pants were his pajamas. Who went without shoes in the middle of winter? Zavier shook his head. Why was he thinking about Raguna's wardrobe, anyway?

"Hey, what are you looking at me like that for?"

Zavier's cheeks burned. "I wasn't staring!"

Raguna laughed, or tried to. "I never said you were." He finished off the remainder of the soup, reclining comfortably in the ornate dining chair. Maybe Tori'd been right about him getting his spirit back. "No need to get so uptight, Zav."

"Oh, no. Not _that_ again!"

"Huh?"

Zavier grimaced. "..._Zav_," he said finally. "Don't call me that. It sounds so juvenile."

"You're a juvenile," said Raguna. "Besides, it's a cute nickname."

"Maybe you're just old," snapped Zavier, reminding himself not to pout. "And, ew, you sound like my mom."

"I like your mom."

"Aw, man, you're _way_ to young for her! Don't even _begin_ to get ideas." Zavier shuddered at the thought, which was far too gross to even picture.

Raguna's eyes sparkled mischievously, as they always did when he was messing with somebody. "I thought I was old." Zavier tried to shoot his friend a death glare, but he had a feeling it didn't work out so well, since he just laughed. "Don't worry. I'm not getting ideas about you mother." He paused, the happiness fading as quickly as it'd come. "Damn, I miss her." Zavier didn't even have to ask who he was talking about. "I've been with a lot of girls but she...she was different. I actually cared what she thought. It was impossible to impress her, but that didn't stop me. I kept trying to...prove myself, I guess, even if it would never be good enough. You know what I mean?"

"Not really," lied Zavier. Deep inside, though, he _did_ know what Raguna meant. It sounded just like him, trying to prove that he could fight, that he could explore, the caves just as well as Raguna could. Trying to measure up, even if it was never going to happen. _No_, he told himself. _It's not the same. Not the same at all._

In the awkward silence that followed, Zavier began to wonder: why had Raguna put so much emphasis on_ your mother_? What, was he going to get ideas about somebody else? Why was he still staring, anyway? Zavier tried desperately to look away, to focus on something, anything, but Raguna's big blue eyes, which remained locked with his as he began to lean in slowly, getting closer and closer to his best friend.

Zavier's heart was pounding, the sound ricocheting throughout his entire body. He could move away, he could say something he could stop him. But he didn't. He didn't want to, he realized.

Raguna's lips were inches from Zavier's, so close that he could feel his breath as it tickled his cheek. As he slid a hand around his friend's narrow waist, there was really no question about it anymore. Raguna was going to kiss him.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: ...How the hell am I so slow at updating this when it's pre-written? And, to my two reviewers who I don't know from ushi, thank you!**

**icy perfection: Thank you! This is actually an older story, and I'm currently writing a longer RF2 fanfiction. I might begin to post that one as well.**

**Smash Genius: Thank you! As for the sudden-Zavier-kiss...yeah. Um. I've actually asked myself the same question; remember, I wrote this a year ago. I was going to change things in editing, but I decided to go ahead and post the fic as it is in order to get some good feedback. Thanks for pointing it out, because I agree that the transition is way too sudden to be healthy. If you see any more things that make no sense (and there will be more, I'm sure), please tell me!  
**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing; maybe that will change if I figure out what I'm on and get off it.  
**

"Raguna!"

In an instant, Raguna had pulled away from Zavier like he was on fire, leaping out of his chair with a surprising lack of agility. "Mist! I didn't, um, expect to see you here." Was he blushing? He'd never done a thing like that before, not manly-man Raguna. If, however, he was planning to start, he'd chosen a good time.

Mist sneered, glancing over at Zavier, who's heart was heart still beating like an unsteady hammer. "Obviously not."

"This..._is_ my house, after all."

"I have a key," she said flatly, the usual lilt gone from her voice. "It's _my_, house remember? Everything here is _mine_."

Raguna swallowed, sensing the impending doom. "You gave it to me, when I collapsed helplessly on your doorstep. Remember? You said I had potential."

"Potential as an earthmate, not a convict." Mist tossed her cascading blond hair over her shoulder, looking good when she was angry. "I'm not going to kick you out, not yet, anyway, but I'm going to have to ask you to pay rent. I'll expect November's check by the end of the week." Zavier couldn't help but be impressed. For someone who seemed like such an airhead, Mist sure knew where to hit a man and really make it sting: his wallet.

"Fine," Raguna grunted, his face developing that all-too-familiar look of hopelessness. "How much to I owe you?"

Mist paused, considering. "A thousand."

"A _thousand_?"

"Hey, I could charge you for the ten _other_ months, if you'd like. In case you've forgotten your math along with your morals, that's ten-"

Raguna cut her off. "I'll pay you the bloody money," he snapped, clearly swinging into one of his more sour moods. "Just get out of _my_ house."

Zavier could've sworn he saw a look of hurt pass over Mist's ivory face, but it was gone so quickly he was sure he'd imagined it. "Alright, then," she said. "You too go back to doing...whatever it was you were doing when I came in." With that, she left, no doubt to go spread around the latest gossip: cute little Zavier was gay for the town homicidal maniac.

Not that he _was_. Whatever had happened the minute before was nothing, Zavier decided. A misunderstanding, that's all. The only thing he could possibly feel for Raguna was a grudging friendliness.

Maybe, just maybe, if he repeated this until it echoed in the depths of his being, it would become the truth.

For whatever reason, Zavier broke down and decided to take his weekly bath several days early. As he walked out of the sharp cold of the outdoors and into the steamy bathhouse, his lungs grateful for the moisture in the air, he tried to reassure himself. He was trying to wash away the actual grime, not the dirty feeling he'd had since lunchtime. Ridiculous. Nothing had happened. Well, not anything more then had happened when Raguna had fished him out of the river. _That's different_ said the half of his mind he preferred to ignore. The rest of his mind retorted with something rather rude, so of course the other half had to top it.

Zavier was so busy cussing himself out that he didn't notice Tabatha standing beside him until she spoke. "Good afternoon, Mr. Zavier."

"Huh?" he said, though some would say it was a lot more like a scream.

"Sorry if I frightened you," she said, her words sounding foreign in Zavier's ears. "I only wanted to say hello."

"Yes, well," he mumbled, as embarrassed as if she could read his thoughts. "Hello to you too."

"I also wanted to apologize."

"For...what?" Suddenly, realization dawned. "I don't know what you heard, but it isn't-"

"I don't pay attention to gossip, Mr. Zavier. I only wanted to say how sorry I am for Mr. Jasper's behavior earlier today."

Was he hearing correctly. "You mean...you believe me-ah, Raguna?"

Tabatha nodded. She wasn't wearing her hat, Zavier noticed, and you _could_ see that her ears were pointed at the top. "He yelled at you an awful lot. Mr. Jasper he..." she paused, biting her lip, "he's not a bad person, not at all, just a little...forceful. And he loved M-miss Bianca very much."

As the elf's lower lip, which was now decorated with a freshly bloody gash, began to quiver ever so slightly, Zavier couldn't help but feel a bit of sympathy. Even for the man who'd tried to turn him into squashed piece of brunch. "I know this is going to sound kind of weird, but...why?"

"Pardon?" Tabatha had pushed her tears away successfully enough to wonder what Zavier was talking about.

"Why are you sorry?"

"Because." Tabatha's eyes, which were a a piercing shade of blue so unnatural they never could've belonged to a human, seemed to gaze into his soul. "I believe you."

Zavier wasn't sure how to react to this good, but rather unexpected, piece of news. "Uh...why, exactly, do you believe me?"

She bit her lip again, hesitating awhile before she answered. "I just do." As they approached the counter, a bored-looking Melody help out her right hand for their money, fanning her face with the other. She had the best job in town, really, in the wintertime. Just as they were about to go separate ways, Tabatha started up again. "Tell your friend not to worry," she said, soft enough that Melody couldn't overhear. "They can't really do anything to him yet."

Melody yawned. "Other people want to bathe too, you know." She gestured to the gaggle of women that'd just walked in, tucking Zavier's money into her pocket.

After an incoherent attempt at 'sorry', Zavier entered the men's side of the bathhouse. Feeling rather self-conscious, he slid into the water. It was pleasantly warm after the cruel outdoors, even for somebody who hated baths as much as he. Normally, he would've gone over to talk to some of the other guys, but he didn't. Considering the rumors that were no doubt circulating at this very moment on the other side of the bathhouse wall, they might've gotten the wrong idea.

Zavier silenced the one ever-persistent half of his mind before it could make any more sarcastic comments.

In a way, his self-imposed isolation was a good thing, since after years and years in Kardia, Zavier finally noticed something. If you sat really close to the divider between the men and women's sections, you could hear what they were saying quite clearly.

They were talking about _him_.

It was every man's dream-the prettiest girls around, devoting their precious gossip time to none other than him. Most men would rather they_ weren't_, however, debating whether or not he was into other guys.

"I'm right and you know it. I mean, has he ever had a girlfriend?" Zavier recognized the voice as Rosetta, a blond with a razor-sharp tongue who Zavier had practically grown up with.

"Well...no," admitted Lara, the stereotypical pretty nurse. "But I'm still not convinced."

"Me neither." That was Felicity, none other than Godwin's daughter. With her flowing brown hair and large chestnut eyes, she was often considered the prettiest girl in town. "I mean, sure I'll buy Zavier, but _Raguna_? She paused, no doubt allowing time for the audience to swoon. "Mist probably exaggerated the whole thing-you know how she is. 'Cause I don't think he's really capable of being...you know..."

"Apparently, he's capable of a lot of things we didn't know about," remarked Rosetta darkly. There were a few murmurs of agreement, and they began to move on to the topic of Camus and Melody who were, apparently, the couple of the moment.

"You know," Tabatha's accent rang out, so loud that even the men could hear it, "we're all so wrapped up in the cause of her death...I, for one, doubt Miss Bianca would want us to forget her life so easily."

Nobody said anything. Really, what could they have said? For the first time that evening, the bathhouse fell wondrously silent as everybody began to contemplate what the quiet maid had said. It sounded almost cryptic, like there was a secret message, a clue hidden inside her words.

Zavier sighed contentedly, leaning against the wall as tendrils of steam wove around him, wrapping him in a protective fog. Somebody _was_ on their side. If only he could figure out why.

"Oh! Zavier, you look positively awful!" Sabrina put a hand up to her temple, squinting. "All three of you..."

"Hangover?" he guessed, ignoring the fact that she'd noticed his dark circles and messy hair, which was trying to liberate itself from his hat. Sabrina was drunk most of the time; she spent the remainder of her days paying the price.

She nodded, wincing. "A bastard of a hangover. Don't you ever start drinking. It's just not worth it."

"Right." Zavier decided not to ask why, then, did she keep doing it. "Anyway...I wanted to talk to you."

"Talk. Sure. Come in, but leave that damned light outside."

Sabrina lived at the beach, in a quaint little shack on the water. It must've been quite charming in the summer, but the ocean view just didn't have the same effect in late November. Zavier'd dragged himself out of bed early, just so he could catch her before her son Nicholas woke up. Knowing Sabrina, she'd probably been so plastered when she heard about Zavier's supposed sexual orientation that she'd forgotten all about it. Which was precisely why he'd selected her as his next victim-he wanted an opinion as unbiased as possible.

"Coffee?" asked Sabrina, motioning for Zavier to sit beside her at the kitchen table.

"Uh...I'll pass."

"Suit yourself," she shrugged, taking a sip from her ivory mug. Zavier had never understood adults' obsession with caffeine-he'd never needed to stay up all night, and besides, coffee was revolting. Something that would make you want to go to sleep-now, for _that_ he would've endured a disgusting drink. It was hard enough to to anything right when he was alert, much less functioning on three hours of sleep. He'd tossed and turned for hours, replaying what'd happened with Raguna over and over in his mind, which made him start to argue with himself all over again. When he finally drifted off, his dream had been a particularly detailed replay, only Mist hadn't interrupted.

Zavier got so embarrassed that he wished he could disappear through the floorboards just thinking about it.

"So, about...what I came to talk to you about..."

"What?" Sabrina, too, had spent the past minute spaced out. "Oh, yeah. That. What is it?"

"It's...about Bianca."

Sabrina's face darkened; she'd never looked more serious (or sober) in all the years Zavier'd known her. "That poor thing," she murmured.

"Do you think Ra-" Zavier hesitated, not wanting to give away what side he was on just yet, "do you think her boyfriend did it?"

"I don't know." Her eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Um..." _Damn_. As Sabrina'd been the first person who bothered to ask him that, he didn't exactly have an answer prepared. "I'm curious."

"I'd advise you take your curiosity elsewhere," she warned, taking another sip of coffee as she spoke. "Murder-and murderers-is not something a kid like you should be dabbling in. How old are you, anyway?"

"Twenty-two. That's not exactly a kid!" Zavier protested, indignant.

"Look, I'm as sorry about Raguna as you are. But it's not my place-or yours-to go out looking for the real killer. These things work themselves out in the end."

"What if the way it works out is Raguna hanging from a noose?" snapped Zavier, his worst fears finally becoming concrete. What if he failed?

Sabrina was silent for a moment, so silent that Zavier thought she'd entered another world again. That is, until she looked up, eyes brimming with some unreadable emotion. "Do what you have to do," she sighed. "Just...be careful. The last thing we need is somebody else dying while their still young."

Feeling the mood get awkward, Zavier dismissed himself with a nod. But it didn't matter. Sabrina was already somewhere else, somewhere far away from Kardia.

As he walked across the snow-covered beach, his boots making an odd crunchy squishing sound, Zavier tried to look at the positive. Sabrina was just one more person he could scratch off the _guilty_ list, even if she hadn't quite given him the reassurance he'd been hoping for.

As he climbed the stone stairs that led away from the beach, he couldn't manage to shake his own words from his mind. What if Raguna _was_ found guilty? What if he _did_ hang?

It would hurt, realized a small part of him. It would hurt more than anything he'd ever felt before. It would be just as though he was Raguna, discovering Bianca's bloody body lying crumpled on the floor.

The saddest part of all was that, even then, when it was far too late, Zavier didn't think he'd be able to admit it.


End file.
